Boarding the bus from Davao
to Digos, I passed by
San Miguel. I smell the brewed beer,
(probably in various
degrees of foam) rich in flavor –
like the same beer he poured, vibrant
like this afternoon’s tryst
but paler than the metallic
sun, half-hidden among greens.
The taste still remains in my mouth.
I taste it – mixed saliva and
beer – inside this bus
freezing cold, on my way home.
